


Children of Helios

by Bookwrm389



Series: Children of Helios [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Weird Spirituality/Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 06:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17934716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwrm389/pseuds/Bookwrm389
Summary: The Gate leaves its mark on all who dare to touch it, and alchemists are powerless to resist its call.





	Children of Helios

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FF.net

_"All the children of Helios were easy to recognize, even from a distance, by their flashing eyes, which shot out rays of golden light."_

Ed scowled at his reflection, slowly being obscured by the steam fogging up the mirror. Where had  _that_  come from? He was pretty sure he had heard that phrase sometime in the recent past. Or maybe he read it in a book? He had been reading all kinds of things these days and, even if Ed couldn't be bothered to memorize every word, random blurbs of knowledge still hovered in the recesses of his mind, out of reach until something triggered a recall.

Condensation crept further along the glass and Ed swiped it away so he could examine the unique trait that had likely prompted the recollection. The bright lights of the communal shower room had reduced his pupils to pinpricks, leaving the irises clearly visible. Perfectly round, flecked with spots and encircled by a deep brown ring just a few shades darker than the main portion. He had been told the color resembled many things. The sun, fire, gold coins, a pair bright yellow daffodils—that last one he could have done without—and it always irritated him that  _that_ was the first thing anyone focused on when they met him. Not his alchemical ability, not the few precious personality quirks he had inherited from his mother. No, it was always  _that_  bastard's eyes. Coupled with a strong, angular face and what matronly women called a 'glorious crown' of blond hair, he resembled a young king.

Or so  _they_ said.

But, Ed grudgingly admitted to himself, they did have a point. Gold was an unusual color for eyes. Exotic, even. Not something commonly found in Amestris, or any of the countries Ed was familiar with. Although he  _had_  overheard soldiers returning from the border of Aerugo in the south speak of natives with fiery hair and golden eyes. Come to think of it, Al had been reading a book on Aerugean legends and folklore not long ago. That was probably where Ed had heard the quote.

And Helios...wasn't that another name for the fabled god of the sun?

 _Why is it always the sun?_  Ed thought crossly, glaring daggers at the dazzling features inherited from his father. He resolutely turned his back on the mirror and braced his palms against the sink. The vapor hanging in the air was so thick that he could barely see the row of shower stalls only a few steps away. It had taken ages for the water to heat up, and Ed planned to soak up every precious drop. Which reminded him, he'd better check to make sure the heater in his little-used dorm in the barracks was still working before he went to bed. It'd be a bitch to wake up to frostbitten ports.

He cast the dark window near the ceiling a baleful look. Thick, sodden,  _freezing_ snow was piled high against the glass while storms of flakes swirled in and out of view. This monster of a blizzard had blown in while he was delivering his latest report to Mustang, so fast and brutal that a state of emergency had been declared. No one was to leave East City headquarters until the sun rose or the storm ended, whichever came first. And Ed wasn't fool enough to believe he could trudge through that mess all the way to the Hughes' residence in the suburbs where Al was. He was stuck here.

At least he had managed to get a turn at a hot shower before the pipes froze. Ed had never been much of a winter person, but now his automail made the coldest months of the year nearly unbearable. All the other soldiers on base were, doubtless, already huddled in front of their electric heaters for the night.

Either that or keeping warm in someone else's bed. The cold did weird things to people. Just on the way to the showers Ed had been waylaid by a very young private hinting that she wouldn't mind company for the night. He had only just managed to shake her off and make his escape. Not that he hadn't been interested—he was a teenager after all—but it was an issue of trust. Ed had enough enemies to know that trust was a fragile, hard-won thing. Being with someone he barely knew was out of the question. It would be too dangerous for him...and for Al.

Well, with any luck, she had found someone else by now. Ed would make do with the shower. Once he was sure the tiled room was heated sufficiently enough, he shucked his clothes as quickly as humanly possible and jerked the stall door shut behind him, gasping when the torrid spray hit him. The warmth penetrated to his very bones, and Ed turned so his automail shoulder was right in the line of fire. _Ah_ , that was good! This was just what he needed after the colonel's latest sermon—Ed took a moment to chuckle at the mental image of Mustang in black robes and a high collar, thumping an enormous rule book against a podium. It would certainly match his pompous, aloof nature. He acted like Ed went out and searched for trouble on purpose, like he actually _enjoyed_  being ambushed by rogue alchemists. Really, if Mustang didn't like it then he should stop sending Ed in the path of these freaks...

Ed turned the water up hotter, gritting his teeth as heat transitioned to the very threshold of pain. He yanked the tie out of his hair and raked his fingers through the tangles, savoring the silence. He could hear nothing over the pounding of water on the tiles, which was just the way he liked it. Sometimes, Ed had this incredible urge to just get  _away_. From the world, from people, from...everything. Odd how he had never been that way as a child. He used to thrive on being around people. He had loved to be the leader, the one everyone looked to for ideas and inspiration.

But a lot of things had changed since the night he saw the Gate. It was truly a blessing that Al didn't remember anything between losing his body and joining with the armor. Ignorance was bliss...for truth brought nothing but pain. Ed gazed down at his palms, eyes losing focus for a moment. There had been moments these past few years, when he performed alchemy or when researching, when he felt like little more than a vessel to be filled, a mere conduit. Moments when he felt so disconnected, so  _different_ , that he didn't even feel entirely human anymore.

He had asked his teacher about it, Ed remembered with a quiet sigh. She was the only one in the world who could possibly understand what he was talking about, after all. Izumi had given him a long, hard look, signifying her dislike of any conversation about  _that place_. But then she had sat him down and spoken for quite awhile, her theories on the Gate and what happened to the souls who dared to approach it.

_It's like this, Edward...have you noticed the way people have treated you since it happened? Do you wonder why children are not afraid of Al's armor or why your reputation spread so fast? Why people are drawn to you brothers instead of treating you like outcasts?_

Yes, he  _had_ wondered. It had been happening more and more often lately. Ed only had to flash one quick smile, one friendly look, and other people made way for him. At least until he opened his mouth and said something tactless and rude, but even then they were still receptive to him. Everywhere he went there were people who knew him, adored him, even though they had never even  _met_ him...

... _it's because of the Gate. Man cannot see something like that and walk away from it unscathed. The change in you is not something any mortal can see or touch or begin to comprehend. You may not be a god, but you're not entirely human either. Not anymore._

And he had laughed aloud at that part. His teacher must be pulling his leg, he thought. It was all in her head, all in  _his_ head.

But...

_Your presence makes those around you feel stronger, happier, more confident. Other people sense it and are drawn to it, even when they have no idea why you affect them in that way._

The miners of Youswell, the civilians of just about every town they had been to. Those children Al was playing with just last week. Hell, even that private in the corridor...

Ed glanced down at his own body, pondering. Aside from the automail and the dozens of scars littering his chest, there was nothing physically different to set him apart from the average teenager. His body was still crafted of the same basic elements that made up all human beings. In fact, aside from gaining a few inches and a more muscular build, he was the same abrasive, loud-mouthed brat he had always been.

But did ordinary kids inspire people to follow them as easily as breathing? Was contact with the Gate the only reason Al still made friends so easily despite his appearance? Were golden eyes and hair really enough to entice perfect strangers into Ed's bed?

_All the children of Helios were easy to recognize..._

The water temperature dropped noticeably. Ed hurriedly shut off the valves before it could chill his automail and scrubbed himself down with the towel, leaving his damp hair loose to dry. He was just reaching for his clothes when the lights went out. Ed froze, blinking as his eyes slowly adjusted to only light of the streetlamp—somehow, still on—shining through the high window. That was just  _great_. How was he supposed to find his way back to the dorm in the dark? He barely knew the way when the lights were on.

Not to mention this was making it very hard to find his clothes. He got his pants and underwear on with little difficulty, but he could only find one shoe and his shirt was missing entirely. Probably it had slipped down from where he had thrown it over the door and was somewhere outside the stall. Ed shrugged his coat on over his bare chest to ward off the swiftly cooling air and unlocked the door. He took one step and tripped over his other shoe, landing in a painful heap right in the shaft of bronze light.

The outer door of the bathroom opened almost noiselessly as he clambered to his knees, and Ed glanced around. It took him a moment to make out the large, uniformed figure striding around the corner, fumbling in the dark. A quiet curse told him that it was Gran, the Iron-Blood Alchemist. The footsteps paused, but there were no noises to indicate Gran was making use of the urinals. If Ed looked closely, he could just make out two dark eyes watching him, glittering faintly.

"Fullmetal," Gran drawled. "Back from the boonies, eh? And just how long do you plan to grace us with your presence this time?"

"For however long I want," Ed said, the snide remark popping out without conscious thought. "But maybe now I'll skip out a few days early. The country air will be so refreshing after hanging around  _you_."

"You watch your mouth in the presence of a superior officer,  _Major!_ "

Ed rose to his feet, abhorrence oozing from every cell in his body. He could retrieve his stuff in the morning. Right now, he just wanted out of the other man's presence. He had never forgiven Gran for allowing Shou Tucker the license to pursue his research, even when Ed was positive the man had  _known_  what kind of evil Tucker was dabbling in. But since when had Gran ever cared how many lives he ruined in his quest for power? Ed had heard plenty of stories about the alchemist's bloodlust during Ishval. It was a wonder he wasn't in a mental institution.

"Where are you going?" Gran barked when Ed made to pass him.

"Back to the boonies," Ed answered impudently, but his heart pounded out a dire warning. There was something in Gran's voice tonight that he didn't like, something dangerous. And once again, his teacher's words echoed back to him like a Siren's call.

_But with alchemists, it's different. I'm telling you this, Edward, because I want to be sure you can protect yourself._

_From what?_  he had asked so naively.

_You dared to reach for the sun and came back alive, and as a result, you are now the embodiment of what alchemists have been searching for their entire lives. An alchemist's reaction to you will be like the first time you saw the Gate; you were terrified, awed, overwhelmed. But at the same time..._

He heard Gran move toward him. "I didn't dismiss you, Major."

"I don't really give a damn!"

... _there was a part of you that wanted to_ conquer  _it._

One thick, meaty hand seized his arm and swung him around until his hip smacked into the counter. "You're enjoying it, aren't you?" Gran hissed. "Watching half the country kiss the ground beneath your feet, treating you like you're a hero. But you're nothing more than Mustang's lapdog and the Fuhrer's poster boy."

"Get your hands off me!" Ed spat viciously and winced when Gran's hold grew painfully tight. Damn, how had he never realized how strong Gran was?

"You  _brat_ ," Gran snapped, shaking him. "You stupid, insolent  _brat_. If you hadn't shown up and taken all the glory, Tucker wouldn't have been so desperate as to transmute that girl, and damned himself and me in the process!"

"I had nothing to do with that!" Ed retorted, defiant even as his insides curdled with guilt. Again, he saw Nina's broken form, saw Tucker's wild eyes and psychotic grin...

An iron-studded fist socked him in the stomach, right below the ribs. Ed wheezed and doubled over as white spots burst across his vision, dozens of miniature suns flaring to life. Gran's other hand pressed against the base of his neck, thumb digging into his windpipe. The breath that engulfed Ed's face was heady with the stink of alcohol which, he was pretty sure, was  _not_ allowed on base.

"Mustang has had his shot," Gran said harshly. "It's  _my_  turn for a little prestige. You're the reason I lost my only alchemist, so you should be the one to replace him in my command. It's only Equivalent Exchange, wouldn't you agree?"

"Like  _hell!_ " Ed snarled and jerked his knee up, nailing him right in the groin. Gran's eyes bulged and his face turned two shades paler as he doubled over on the floor. Ed lurched for the door, but Gran seized his ankle and brought him right back to the ground.

"It's always  _you_ ," Gran wheezed, words thick with hatred. "You're the one they all talk about, the one they all worship _...why do you have to be so damn PERFECT!_ "

He looked back to see Gran reaching for him, eyes wild with more than rage, more than pain. Getting desperate now, Ed lashed out with his automail foot. The kick caught Gran squarely in the head with a satisfying _crack_ , and Ed didn't even wait to see the extent of the damage before he was up and running out the door. He collided into a wall and sprinted around a corner, his breathing reduced to short, pained gasps by the blow to his ribs earlier. He heard Gran shove open the door behind him, prowling through the dark corridor, and Ed hurriedly ducked into an empty office. He crouched in the shadows until the alchemist bypassed him, not daring to move an inch even long after Gran's footsteps had meandered out of hearing range. Only then did he come out of hiding and head in the opposite direction, one step more muffled than the other without a boot to  _thunk_  against the floor.

But he hardly took notice of where he was going, still in a state of mild shock from that  _look_ in Gran's eyes. It frightened him more then he cared to admit. Ed hadn't really believed his teacher when she told him to be on his guard around other alchemists...

... _because there are those who can't tell the difference between their desire for knowledge and power and other, baser instincts. Their souls recognize the presence of the Gate, but their eyes see a human being that can be swayed, harmed, used._

_Is it any wonder, then, that the human mind would mistakenly translate an obsession with alchemy into physical attraction?_

Mustang's office was closer than the barracks and much easier to find. Ed had made his way here so often in the past few years that it was like the north of his own little mental compass. He was pretty sure he could find his way even if he was in a coma. Ed nudged the door open with his shoulder and shut it quietly behind him, throwing the lock home. Not that a locked door could do much against a guy who could turn his arms into  _cannons_ , but it made him feel better and that was what mattered most right now.

A tiny noise behind him made him spin around, heart thudding. Mustang was curled up on one side of the couch with a thick wool blanket around his shoulders, basking in the warmth of the fire in the grate. Several candles were spaced out along the mantle and at different points around the room to illuminate every corner with bright, flickering light. Mustang blinked at Ed blearily and straightened up, sleepy confusion morphing into faint surprise.

"W-What're you doing here?" Ed stammered and nearly kicked himself. If he had been stranded at headquarters, then it was only logical that Mustang had also been forced to bunk here overnight as well.

"My dorm doesn't have a fireplace," Mustang answered brusquely. He turned back to the flames, frowning in mild annoyance. "If you expect me to share, just be warned that you're sleeping on the floor."

Ed hovered indecisively, wanting nothing more than to plop in front of the fire and nod off into peaceful, safe oblivion. He had hoped to stay here long enough to be sure Gran had given up before making his way to the barracks, but staying here with Mustang was not an appealing notion. Neither was forsaking the safety of the office.

"You know you're missing a shoe, Fullmetal?" Mustang mentioned offhandedly.

"Fuck off, Mustang," Ed muttered mechanically, leaning heavily on the wall with one hand pressed to his throbbing ribs. He looked down, faintly startled to see tiny beads of blood trickling between his fingers and dripping to the floor. He stared dumbly at the four neat little puncture wounds just beneath the lowest rib on the left side, a testament to the gauntlets Gran never took off. Purple and black bruises were already forming a mottled pattern over his gut, spreading upward toward his chest and across his navel.

"Are you alright?"

Ed tore his eyes away when he realized Mustang had thrown back the blanket and stood, closing the distance between them while he wasn't looking. When he was two steps away, Mustang's eyes widened and he reached out to graze the bruises with his fingertips. "What the  _hell_ , Ed! How did this happen?"

Ed winced and pulled away. "I'm f-fine. Just an accident...wha _—hey!_ "

Mustang ignored the squawk of protest and yanked the coat aside to examine the marks. "I know this pattern," he said in a low voice, and his eyes flashed in a way that dared Ed to deny it.

Ed looked the other way. "...Gran got it into his head that I should be in his command. He didn't take my answer very well."

"I can see that," Mustang said drably. He swore angrily as he traced the bruises again. "He could have punctured your lung with those damn gauntlets..."

"I told you, I'm  _fine_ ," Ed protested. "Just...just let me hang out here for a bit? He's probably still looking for me."

Mustang looked at him oddly for a moment and nodded once, leading him over to the couch. "You can stay for the rest of the night. I'll stay, too. He won't try anything with me here."

Ed frowned even as his body automatically relaxed into the warm nest Mustang had only recently vacated. He shivered when droplets of water seeped from his hair and trickled down his neck, leaving icy trails in their wake. "Don't need your protection. I'd've kicked his ass myself, but..."

He trailed off when a warm palm brushed near the pulse in his neck. Mustang tilted his chin up to take a closer look. And Ed knew then that evidence of Gran's choking grip must still be there. He swallowed dryly at the dangerous glint in Mustang's eyes, but the colonel asked no questions. Instead, he straightened up and went behind his desk to rummage through the drawers.

"I'll have a talk with Iron-Blood tomorrow about this," Mustang said abruptly.

"What, why?" Ed said in alarm.

Mustang circled back around the couch and settled down on his knees in front of Ed, setting a first aid kit on the cushion beside him. "Even in the military, there are certain lines you don't cross," he said darkly. "I don't expect things will get out of hand, but you'd better head back to Hughes' place in the morning before I confront him, just in case."

"You don't have to do that for me."

Mustang snorted. "Even if it wasn't standard procedure to report an assault on a subordinate, I'll take any chance I can to get Gran demoted a rank to two—"

"I meant _that_."

Mustang paused halfway between ripping the covering off a bit of gauze. "I know I don't," he replied and pressed the gauze to the oozing wounds. Ed hissed at the sudden knife-like pain, almost missing the murmured apology. He watched Mustang carefully tape the gauze in place, though all he could really see was that crown of black hair right below his chin, slightly messy and sticking up in the back. There were probably half a dozen smartass comments he could make on dress code and improper hair combing, but right now Ed was having a hard time thinking of a single one. He gave an involuntary shiver when warm breath caressed his collarbone and his coat slid down to bare his left shoulder.

And he didn't miss the way Mustang's eyes flicked up briefly before darting away hastily. The dressing was in place now, but his hands still lingered, prodding gently at Ed's ribs. Most likely checking to be sure they weren't broken or cracked.

Before now, before tonight, Ed would have dismissed the extra attention as normal concern, as a commander looking after his subordinate. But Gran's attack and the resurgence of his teacher's warning had put all his instincts on high alert for anything out of the ordinary. Most of the time, he and Mustang never stayed in the same room long enough for Ed to notice anything strange, but now it all seemed so  _obvious_. The icy mask he donned whenever their arguments grew heated, the careful distance he maintained between them at all times. It was all to avoid  _this_.

He probably should have been unnerved. Scared, even. But all Ed could think was how foolish he had been for forgetting, up until now, that his commander was also an alchemist.

_Even you, Colonel?_

He didn't realize he had spoken the words aloud until Mustang's head snapped up. Black eyes went wide for half a second, flooded with shock and guilt and  _hunger_ , before Mustang snatched his hands away and shuttered his expression, making an attempt at indifference. "What do you...? I don't know what you mean..."

Ed reached out and took both his wrists. "You know exactly what I mean, Mustang."

"No, I  _don't!_ " Mustang said fiercely, jerking free and practically jumping to his feet. "I don't care for what you're insinuating, Fullmetal. What makes you think I'm anything like Gran?"

"I know you're not," Ed murmured, struck by an inexplicable sadness all of a sudden. Gran may have been a sick bastard from the start, but if even  _Mustang_  was being affected in this way, then it truly had to be something that he couldn't help, couldn't master. And Ed knew him well enough to understand how much Mustang valued being the one in control. He almost wanted to apologize, but what exactly was he supposed to say?  _Sorry for screwing with your hormones?_

Mustang turned away from him completely, hands on his hips. Like he wanted to run but was determined to stand his ground. "I think it would be best for you to go back to your dorm, Major," he said stiffly.

Ed huddled down on the couch defensively, hating the deliberate formality and coldness. "Back to the dorms," he muttered bitterly. "That's the first place Gran will look for me, you know. But what do  _you_ care if he beats the shit out of me for being in your command instead of his?"

"I  _do_ care!" Mustang snapped, whirling around. "Ed, of  _course_ I care."

"You've got a funny way of showing it!" Ed retorted. "Who knows, maybe I really  _would_ be better off taking his offer!"

Mustang caught his breath. "Don't mess with me. Don't you  _dare_ mess with me, Fullmetal!"

"Who says that I am?" Ed said, only just managing to keep his expression neutral. He hadn't been serious, not at  _all_. But if Mustang wanted to play the distant commander, then  _fine_. Ed had no problem giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Mustang's expression betrayed a flicker of uncertainty when he didn't retract his earlier statement. "Do you really think Gran would allow you the same freedom to search for the Stone as I do?" he demanded.

"If there's something in it for him, definitely," Ed replied easily, plunging on with reckless abandon. "He might even give me more if I play my cards right."

"You're not serious," Mustang said earnestly. "You  _can't_ be. Ed, he's a monster!"

"And you're a cold-blooded bastard! It's not like it would be much of a transition—!"

The sudden, painful backhand cut him off as effectively as if Mustang had gagged him. Ed reeled, clapping a hand over his rapidly swelling cheekbone as he tried to figure out what the  _hell_ had just happened. He looked up quickly and saw the same dumbfounded expression on Mustang's face as he looked from his own hand to Ed. "I...oh  _damn_ it Ed, I didn't...I'm sorry, I was way out of line. How bad is it?"

His hand trembled as he took Ed's jaw and turned his face into the light. But the proximity was a mistake as it allowed Ed to glimpse the lingering panic and devastation his thoughtless goading had elicited. This was the first time, the  _very_ first time, he had garnered a reaction from Mustang that wasn't exasperation or smugness. A reaction that was way too emotionally charged to be anything but genuine.

Ed curled his fingers around Mustang's wrist, tracing the array on his glove. "You don't have anything to worry about," he said quietly. "I wouldn't really transfer under him, or anyone else."

A thumb touched by the corner of his eye. "Why?" Mustang asked in a strained voice.  _Why is it me you have chosen?_

"Because," Ed said with a feeble smile and a shrug, "I owe you too much, you bastard colonel. And I trust you."

Mustang shut his eyes briefly, expression tormented. "You shouldn't."

And he closed the distance and kissed him. Ed breathed in sharply in shock and his first instinct was to retreat, but Mustang slid his hand around the back of his head and held him in place, fingers threading through his hair. Mustang went to his knees so he could wrap his other arm around his waist, palm sliding under his coat and skimming up his back to rest between his shoulder blades. The thought that he should stop this darted through Ed's mind and was immediately flung right back out again when Mustang changed the angle and came back for a second attack, teeth and tongue involved this time. He put up a token resistance, but the part of him that wanted to break Mustang's nose was already fading out, protests smothered and forgotten.

Because Ed had been telling the truth earlier. He  _did_ trust Mustang. Probably more than he should. Ed allowed his body to become pliant, losing himself. But instead of warm beds and searing touches flitting through his half-stunned mind, it was alchemy. Lines, circles, symbols, structures, all resolving themselves into equations and diagrams that were there and gone in the blink of an eye. There were arrays that he had never seen before, never even known  _existed_. The visions carried him higher and higher, waves of sensation sweeping over him and through him. The scent of scorched wood and melting wax, blistering heat on his skin, water, oxygen, hydrogen,  _fire_...

The fire hissed and flared up, sending a glorious cascade of sparks onto the hearth where they sputtered out like so many dying stars. A deep, satisfied groan escaped Mustang's throat, and he finally broke away. He pressed his forehead to Ed's, panting, hazy eyes opening sluggishly and lips hovering scant centimeters away. " _Helios_...shit Ed, what the hell  _are_ you?"

Ed licked swollen lips. "I'm not Icarus anymore," he said in a hushed voice. "That's for damn sure."

Mustang cupped his face with both hands. "I guess that makes me the winged one here," he breathed and leaned in again. He trailed soft kisses across Ed's jaw and down his neck before returning to his lips, hands tracing the curve of his back and the line of his jaw with something almost akin to reverence. Ed's own palms rested on his broad chest, and he could feel Mustang's heart pounding almost as hard and fast as his own. But just as he began to wonder how far they would take this...

" _No!_ "

Mustang jerked back suddenly, shaking his head. "I can't," he said hoarsely. "I-I can't do this, I  _won't_. I mean, you're only...how old are you again?"

"Sixteen," Ed said automatically, then amended. "Well, almost."

Mustang laughed giddily, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Right, fifteen  _and_  my subordinate. God, I'm evil. I'm worse than fucking  _Gran_..."

Ed smirked humorlessly, amused when Mustang threw him an almost indignant look. "You idiot. We both know it's not really me you want."

Mustang's lips parted in mute surprise, and he stared up at Ed for a long, long moment. Then he slowly bowed his head to rest in Ed's lap, pillowed by his folded arms, the very picture of defeat and subjection. On impulse, Ed ran his fingers through the coarse black hair spread over his thighs. Mustang shuddered at the contact. Even now the alchemist warred with the man, concern for Ed's well-being combating avarice and longing. And Ed was reminded of the moments when  _he_  had stood before the Truth, tiny palms planted on those black stone doors and knowing that everything he had searched for so ardently lay dangling just beyond his limited reach. He knew intimately how painful it was to be so  _close_  only to be thwarted so brutally.

Not that Ed could ever be a substitute for the actual Gate, no matter how much it had tainted and altered him. Alchemy was a science, but for many it also doubled as religion. It was everything, the answer to all of humankind's many ignorant questions. And even when the answers stopped coming, that only spurred the alchemist onward, seeking answers from another source,  _any_ source...

"Colonel," Ed whispered, suddenly breathless with a fear he couldn't name. "Promise me you'll never do what me and Al did, okay? Promise you won't try. Not  _ever_."

Mustang raised his head with a baffled look. "Of course I won't. Why would I try knowing I'd only fail?"

Ed could only shake his head, unable and unwilling to elaborate. Mustang moved so that he was sitting beside him on the couch, tugging the abandoned blanket up so it covered them both. Ed leaned his head against a strong shoulder and let his eyes slide back over to the grate, mesmerized by the jump and spark of the flames and the brightly glowing coals at its heart. The heat had dried the last of the moisture from his hair, and for the first time that night, he felt truly warm again.

"I'm sorry, Fullmetal," Mustang said with real regret. "I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I...I don't know what came over me."

Ed shrugged a little, tucking his nose under the blanket. "'S fine. But do it again and I'm breaking your nose."

"Is it weird that I saw arrays when I kissed you?" Mustang asked, sounding preoccupied.

"Yes," Ed replied without inflection. "Freak."

Mustang glanced down at him uncertainly. He looked like he wanted to ask more questions or demand some kind of explanation for the way they had both behaved. Ed didn't blame him in the least, he was a little shaken himself. But, as he wasn't in the mood to reiterate his teacher's lecture, Ed merely tucked the blanket more firmly around them and closed his eyes. "'Night, Mustang."

Several long minutes passed before he finally felt Mustang relax beside him and maneuver them both so that they were lying down. The couch was just wide enough for them to stretch out side by side, though Ed had to throw an arm over the colonel so he wouldn't fall off. Outside, the storm continued to rage and seethe, occasionally rattling the windows, but for now it was held at bay.

"Goodnight," Mustang murmured. "My  _miniature_ Helios."

"...you're a real bastard, you know that?"

A rich chuckle and a kiss on the forehead was all the answer he got.


End file.
